Identity Crisis
by Blazichu
Summary: One had to wonder why this always happened to Sissel.


Uh... I have no excuse for this. I just thought it was a funny idea... and writing know-it-all Jowd was entertaining. For the record, this is in no way a slight at any theories floating about out there; personally, I like Sissel as-is, but hey, why not play around with rule 63?

So, obviously there are spoilers afoot. You've been warned.

* * *

What.

If Sissel wasn't supposed to be acting like an actual cat, he—uh, well, whatever—would have stared at the woman.

"You're lucky, Detective, she's a little angel."

As it was, he—she… _oh forget it_—glanced dryly up at Jowd as the man retied the red bandana which had been removed about twenty minutes prior. The blonde—who looked slightly stunned, but criminally amused (particularly for somebody in law enforcement) —simply smiled at the veterinarian. "Ah, but you haven't seen the trouble that she can get herself into."

"She's a kitten, detective, that's what they do." The vet laughed, and seemed to search the room for something, "Did we take your carrier to the back room?"

"No, no," Jowd assured her, "I didn't bring a carrier. You said it yourself, Sissel is quite well behaved."

_(I'm going to kill him and then bring him back to life, just so that I can kill him again.)_

Blissfully ignorant of these murderous musings, the detective ruffled the cat's fur and, their business at the veterinary clinic concluded, made a move to leave, with a friendly wave at the vet herself. As always, he was careful to hold the door open for the feline who slinked after him, somewhat more sulkily than usual.

There was a silence between the two, until they reached the car. Sissel darted in first, when the detective opened the door, and claimed the passenger's seat, perched atop it in a manner worthy of being called 'feline'.

"_What the hell?"_

Jowd rolled his eyes at the cat's outburst, pulling the driver's side door closed. "Problem, Sissel?"

"_I'm not—I can't be a girl!"_

The detective sighed, and shot the feline a sympathetic glance, "By whose logic?"

"_It's just…not right!"_

"You assigned your gender based on Yomiel's body, right? When you still thought that you were him?" He caught the nod—a strange thing to see coming from a cat, really—out of the corner of his eye as he buckled his seatbelt and started the car, "It's harder to tell male and female cats apart, but I think a vet could manage it, so it's probably safe to say that yes, you're female."

There was an indistinct muttering from the feline, who crouched down on the seat to anchor him—_herself—_down during the car ride, and flattened her ears, looking thoroughly dejected.

"What's wrong, little kitten?"

"_Missile's going to make fun of me."_

"Even if he _would_ do something like that—and I'm certain that he wouldn't— he'd get himself into some seriously hot water." Jowd, smirked a little, and was unable to keep himself from adding, "It's not nice to tease ladies, after all."

"_Gee, thanks."_

The detective laughed, and they carried on in silence for a great portion of the ride… until they rolled to a stop at a red light.

"_Detective?"_

"Hmm?' Jowd hummed, glancing briefly away from the intersection, toward the kitten.

"_Yomiel would have known, right? Why didn't he say anything?'_

"You'd have to ask him that yourself," The blonde said, pausing for thought, and accelerating again, as the light changed, "But I'd imagine that there was never a good time for it. On top of that, you'd just gone from being a dead human to a dead cat—it would have been quite a bit to take in, don't you think?"

In lieu of a response, the cat sat back up in her seat and turned to watch the scenery pass without any real interest. What she did notice, on the other hand, was the telltale barking as they pulled into the driveway. Why…why was Missile there?

The Pomeranian jumped into the car the moment that Jowd opened it, and immediately found a spot next to Sissel, ignoring the fact that he'd been trained better than that. Eyes bright, he cocked his head to one side and gave the cat a lick.

"_You're all good now, right Sissel?"_

When it became obvious that she wasn't about to reply, despite rubbing her head up against Missile in an obviously affectionate gesture, Jowd took the task upon himself.

"She's fine, Missile—nothing was the matter, remember? It was just a checkup to get her all of her shots so she'll _stay_ healthy."

The dog tilted his head in the opposite direction, and looked puzzled for a moment, before settling himself on the seat and half-curling around the cat.

"_Oh. That's good!"_

Genuinely surprised, Sissel laid back down, resting her head on Missile's back and, after a few seconds, started to purr softly.

Jowd, who'd almost been forgotten, shook his head, "Come on, you two—you can't stay in here. Let's go inside." There was a noticeable lack of movement in response to this, "Come on, now; don't make me the bad guy here." Still, nothing. "I'll pick you up and carry you in if I have to, you know."

Half a minute later, Alma was greeted by the strange sight of her husband walking into the house, arms full of a little black kitten and a puffy Pomeranian.


End file.
